


Draco Malfoy and The Philosopher's Stone

by aedryhgbm



Series: Mending Bones [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Also full of bullshit as I don't understand a single thing about legilimency, But fuck that i do what i want, Canon Divergence, Draco trying to redeem himself, Everything is the same expect Draco's there and he's a good guy, F/M, Gen, Good Draco, He also tries not to fuck shit up, M/M, Time-Travel AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:46:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aedryhgbm/pseuds/aedryhgbm
Summary: Draco resolves to set things right for himself and his family. Though through not a really orthodox method, but he's never been a very orthodox person. He goes back to where it all began, and sets out to carve a path for himself, changing his life, and thus, the wizarding world as a whole.





	1. The Outcome

This was getting a bit too much.

Draco knew they had it coming for them.  _Especially_ towards them. And he supposed they also deserved it too. But it still didn't escape the fact that it was all still so  _unfair._ Justified, but unfair all the same. 

It was hard as a Slytherin. All the other houses, hell, even the teachers had their distrust and hate and displeasure rolling off them in waves at every sight of one. It was even worse for Draco himself, what with him having been the way he was back in their previous years at Hogwarts, before everything truly went to shit. 

What was more, there was only a handful of eighth year Slytherins who came back to finish their education. This only added to their impression of the Slytherin house being the self-serving, pitiful, cowardly house the rest made them out to be. Hell, if this was how Slytherin was going to be treated for the rest of eternity then not even Draco would have even bothered to come. He was only here because his mother told him to; to finish his education so he can at least get a job to sustain them in the future, since, he's the Malfoy Heir and all. 

It was also an especially hard time for the first years. They were all impressionable young children, and they fed on all gossip and hearsay like gospel. Most of them looked so lost and scared, made even worse by the leering of the children from the other houses. It fueled Draco's rage, but he didn't act on it, couldn't help even himself, lest he fuck shit up somehow and Slytherin gets even more hate than they do now. 

On the other hand, Gryffindor was having the time of their lives, and Harry Potter was treated like their king, their emperor, their lord. It was all so  _frustrating_ to see, how so many people practically worshipped the ground the bloody bloke walked on, how they kept showering him with attention and gifts and all sorts of compliments. When roughly four years ago those same people scorned the boy for allegedly entering a tournament he didn't even want to be in. When two years before that, they shunned the boy because rumors said he was the Heir of Slytherin because he can fucking talk to bloody snakes. 

Well, yes, Draco had treated Harry the same as the others back in fourth year, but his scorn stemmed from a much younger rivalry and competitive streak. And likewise, back in second year a good amount suspected him of being the Heir too. 

What really frustrated him the most was how the entirety of the Slytherin house was being treated like scum. Yes, there were some like him who truly deserved to be treated the way they were, but some were being given shit for something they didn't deserve. Like the current second years and third years and fourth years. Like, come on, they're just  _children_. They had no major part in the war, and yet they were dismissed by the school as a whole for something they weren't responsible for. This just supported his outlook of the whole Hogwarts system, that Slytherin was the evil house and it wasn't right and it was all so frustrating and it was all so  _unfair_. 

What did they bloody expect them to do? Some of his housemates had parents and uncles and aunts and cousins fighting in  _that_ side, and what the bloody hell did the rest of Hogwarts expect them to do? Change alliances? Go against their own family? Go against all the people who have raised them and had been there for them, all those they had fond memories for?  _What the bloody hell did Hogwarts expect them to do?_ They were just children. Children caught up in something bigger than themselves. 

No one, fucking no one deserved this. 

But while Gryffindor celebrated in their tower, held parties and got drunk and had the time of their lives, Slytherin was stuck down in the dungeons, struggling to keep up with everything, trying their hardest to turn over a new leaf. Draco would know this the most. It was so hard being a Slytherin right now. 

Which was why he was going to do something about it.

* * *

It wasn't the most concrete plan, but a plan nevertheless. He'd been toying with it ever since Mother had sent him back to this hellhole, but only begun to seriously consider it when he saw a little Slytherin girl burst into tears while a bunch of Ravenclaws laughed at her. He'd scared them off sure enough, and had chosen to skive off classes at that moment to stay by her side. He'd then treated her to sweets down in the kitchens till she was back in high spirits. 

One problem in his plan was that he didn't have enough information. He'd only heard bits and pieces, like how it was Professor Quirrel who had ended up being the villain after all, and not Snape as per the original assumption. Though what it was he was after still remained in the dark. And he knew about Professor Lupin being a werewolf, though he'd suspected it once Snape took over the class that one time. And he'd no idea where Potter had disappeared off to back in fourth year at the end of the third task, but it obviously wasn't anything good with how Potter came back with Diggory's  _dead body._  

Another problem was that he has no idea how to go about doing it. As far as he knew, all the time-turners in the Ministry were destroyed, and he knew fair few who owned one. And they wouldn't lend them to him unless he told them his plan, which he wasn't sure would be welcomed well to anyone who heard it. What was more, normal time-turners only went back a couple hours, a day at the most. He needed to go back  _eight_ years. 

So the only way to go about was to sneak around. Like a fucking snake. 

Ugh, this was all so hard. Okay, now that it wasn't two in the morning, caffeine induced thinking, this plan didn't seem like a good or rational one at all. First of all, he had to go about getting information like a sneak, and then get a strong enough time-turner he wasn't even sure existed that could take him back eight years, and then had to live his life knowing every single thing that was about to happen and plan how to go about it while not freaking out the entire time. For eight years. And then what? Will he just stay in that timeline? Will nothing from here matter when he's reached the age he went back time in? Will the two timelines merge somehow? 

Gosh this was all so stupid. 

Maybe it's best to take this a step at a time. It's also best to maybe leave this alone, but no, he didn't think he could bear living like this for the rest of his life. Firstly he needed to gather information. And who better to get it from than the very people who experienced it? 

His resolve strengthened throughout the week. He studied the three of them, taking note of things he wouldn't have found the need to before. The two boys would certainly be easily to get his information from, but the girl would probably pose some problems. She was clever, and incredibly perceptive. He would have to be extra careful with her, otherwise she might sock him in the jaw again. He was going to get information from her last, he decided. 

Besides, he'd like to prolong going into the girls' dorm for as long as possible. 

It was about four months since the beginning of the school year when Draco finally made his move. He stole to the Gryffindor tower late one night, successfully entering with the password he'd heard the Gryffindors say. It was so easy really. One would think they'd become even the least bit more wary after the events of the last year, and surely they'd be able to check for disillusionment charms when they come across one. They weren't even being subtle about it; shouting out their password for the whole school to hear. It was a wonder how none of the other houses attempted to break in here. 

The Gryffindor common room was drastically different than the Slytherin one, and Draco's lip curled at how... red it was. The furniture was all grand and ornate, and they had such a magnificent view from way up here, and it was  _warm_. It was a stark contrast to his own common room down below, and Draco couldn't help thinking about the unfairness of it all. He wondered if the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw common rooms were similar. 

They slept with their curtains open, and so it was easy for him to determine which was which. He went to the Weasley first. After checking his disillusionment spell still held, he quickly performed Legilimency. 

He was highly skilled in Legilimency. One had to be, when the Dark Lord had once lived under their very roof. He had gone to painstaking measures to protect himself, and had thus acquired a new skill in the process. Legilimency was best performed on someone when their mind was most relaxed, therefore Draco had chosen to get his information during the night. It was all too easy to delve into the mind like this, when no barriers were held up, and unless they had performed Occlumency right before they slept Draco wouldn't have any problem. 

Weasley did not perform Occlumency. It was probably the easiest thing Draco had done, going through all his memories of their first and second years, though he was still careful in the case he suddenly woke up. He paid close attention to everything he'd never known before, like how Potter had a fucking _Invisiblity Cloak_ and how the three of them had entered the third floor where they discovered the three-headed dog. And how they had to participate in a real, life-sized game of  _Win-or-die-a-horrible-brutal-death_ Wizard's Chess. Though he didn't get more knowledge after that, since Weasley had blacked out at the end of the game. 

He'd stopped after third year, now with a whole ton of useful knowledge he could use. Potter didn't only have an Invisibility Cloak, he had a map of Hogwarts too. And not just a regular old map. He didn't know what kind of charms or spells were used on that map, but he'd be damned if he didn't get his hands on it. 

So he took them both. He muttered the line to open the Map, grinning when lines and words started to fill the piece of parchment. He studied it a moment. Everyone was displayed here. He could see Filch and Ms Norris making their rounds around the castle on the second floor, and Mcgonagall was up sitting at her office desk. He could see passageways and tunnels he'd never known existed before, and he grinned at the prospect of exploring them all. He'd be damned if he didn't take this with him. Potter could survive without it for a while. 

He left the tower satisfied, with the map tucked under his arm and the Cloak around his head, mind reviewing the newfound information and what course of action he was first going to take back in first year. 

The only unnerving thing he'd learned was that the three-headed beast guarding the Philosopher's Stone was named  _Fluffy._  

* * *

This went on for a while. He'd only take a little bit of information at a time, then spend the next few days reviewing those memories and plotting. He'd finished with Weasley,  though there were still miniscule gaps that still needed to be filled. He was halfway through fourth year with Potter now, watching as Fleur thanked the boy profusely for saving her sister. 

Things had gone incredibly smoothly, and the only minor hiccups were when Weasley had woken up whilst Draco was watching his memories in seventh year, when they were on the run. And then agaun with Potter in second year, during the basilisk attack down in the Chamber. He'd drawn out his wand then, though it was more of an instinctive reflex, and when he'd finally blinked through his sleepy stupor and realised that there was no one there, he finally settled back down, though it took him quite a while to fall back asleep. 

It'd been roughly two months since he first started it all. It was tedious work, regardless of how easy it actually was; he made sure the memory-watching wasn't too regular of an occurence, then maybe the three of them would pass it off as some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder from the war or something. He'd hoped that they didn't find it too peculiar, but, as it was, things never really went the way he wanted to. 

He overheard them one day in the Great Hall. He only heard snippets of their conversation, though that was because he'd been rushing to get a bite to eat before heading off to Charms. 

"--are missing," he heard Potter say. Draco assumed he meant the Cloak and the Map; both of which were stowed away in the bottom of his bag. He suppressed a smirk, but it vanished with his next words. "I've been having rather strange dreams too, recently. About my first few years here."

"Me too," Weasley exclaimed. "Though, it's like, not every night, right? Or is that just me? 'Mione, are you having them too?"

"No," she said. Draco didn't hear what her next words are, because by then he'd reached the Slytherin table and it'd been too far for him to eavesdrop. As he headed out of the Hall he heard some more of the conversation. 

"--entering my mind. Like Legilimency." That was Potter. 

"...I'll look up on it," Granger said.

Well, shit. They were getting suspicious. Looks like he's not going up into the tower tonight. 

As he rounded the corner, he swore he could feel Potter's eyes on him. The familiar notion of it all sent him a small wave of nostalgia, and he suppressed the urge to look over his shoulder and send a sneer his way. It's what he would've done a few years ago, before everything went to shit. 

He spent one evening studying the map. He hadn't went up to the tower the past few days, and insyead had been playing their experiences over and over again, trying to put more sense to his plan. At this point he wasn't sure he even needed Granger's memories anymore. He has all of Weasley's point of view now, and Potter's would undoubtedly be the most reliable given that he was the main figure in all of this and thus had the most involvement. Surely he could work around the little plot holes the two gave him. But Granger was intelligent and highly perspective. Surely there were some details that she'd notice, that would surely help him with his plan. 

He looked at the map, read the names. At first, the names held little meaning to him, but after watching Potter's third year he'd realised the significance of them. Prongs was the boy's father. Moony was their professor back in third year. Padfoot was his sodding  _cousin_ , and it pained him somehow that he'd never even knew. And Wormtail. A traitorous scum who betrayed his friends in the name of fear. 

His cousin's words rang through his ears. 

 _"Then you should've died! Died, rather than betray your friends, as we would've done_ for _you."_

The implication that the rest of them would've died for this vile man was what made his betrayal all the more damning. To know that such close friends could've turned on each other... was such a depressing thought. To know that people would do such things in the name fear... it was something Draco knew all too well. 

It had been fear that has made him do all those things back in his last two ears at Hogwarts. Fear that his parents would suffer at his wrongdoings. It was fear that made him go after Dumbledore, despite knowing that he  _can't_. Because if he didn't then his parents would suffer. And it was that knowledge that had made him do all those things, because the thought of ever having to witness his parents in such pain was what feared him the most. To know that he would suffer the same pain. 

But despite his fear, he hadn't sold Harry out to Voldemort. He couldn't bring himself to do it because he knew right then, that it wasn't the right thing to do. Because he knew the consequences if he were to ever give away Harry like that. Living in that kind of world... it would've been even worse than the life he has right now. 

He knew where Peter Pettigrew came from, related with his fear even, but he could never understand how one could turn on their own friends like that. If Draco could stop himself from doing it, from selling out his own  _enemy_ , then why couldn't Pettigrew do the same for his own  _friends_? 

It was that knowledge that made Pettigrew such a sick man. That Pettigrew succumbed to fear so easily like that, that he could have betrayed his friends like that...

Draco couldn't wait to go back. Then he could perhaps shove his wand up the man's nose whilst he tell him how wrong he was. If Draco could've aided his own enemy then Pettigrew could've done the same for his own friends. 

Hs breathed heavily for a minute, regaining control of his emotions and thoughts. Then, with a shake of his head, he pulled the Invisibilty Cloak over him, Map tucked under his arm, and sneaked out into the night. 

 


	2. The Time-turner

Performing Legilimency on Granger was a total  _nightmare._ She was way too perceptive. There wasn't a night when she didn't wake up from his probing into her memories, and he was almost caught five times too many.

He gave up after fourth year. 

Now with Legilimency gone, Draco had to find a way to go back time. His original thought at first was to break into the Ministry, and try the Department of Mysteries, maybe. But he had to admit that was perhaps a bit too extreme. It certainly wouldn't bode well for him when he'd be inevitably caught, and he'd  ~~probably~~ almost certainly be thrown into Azkaban next to his father for trying to steal a magical device. The Malfoys would never be in anyone's good graces ever again. 

Speaking of the Malfoys, he'd went home for Christmas break, and he'd snooped around about a quarter of the rooms of his father's. They held hoards and stashes of magical items his father and all the other ancestors had accumulated over the centuries. He hadn't found a suitable device for time-travelling, but he had found several other interesting items. 

Regardless, he hadn't found his desired device, and had left Malfoy Manor feeling a bit run down. But that didn't stop him from giving up. He had more rooms to go through, and he would have plenty of time during the Easter break. However, that was still about three weeks away, and until then, he was stuck in school. 

By the time Easter arrived, Draco was feeling very restless and fidgety. The entire time spent waiting was filled with trips to the Quidditch pitch after classes (or sometimes during classes; just whenever there wasn't anyone else), trips to the kitchens, and trips to the library, where he pored over ancient texts and tomes in search of information about time-turners. Most of the things he'd read he already knew, like how the standard time-turner could only let one go back a maximum of five hours. Though he'd read about this one woman who went back to the fifteenth century and had been trapped for five days. When she returned, her body aged four centuries, and was irrevocably beyond repair. What was worse, disastrous results had followed this incident, and, he quoted, 'no less than twenty-five people had disappeared, in the case of being 'unborn''. 

This unsettled Draco a bit, but he reassured himself his own trip wouldn't be so catastrophic. He wasn't going far back enough to prevent any people from being 'unborn', and, if he was lucky, there'd be more people living by the time he was done. His own trip wasn't going to be some accidental tumble back to the past -- he had objectives and goals to reach. He had things to do back in the past and he sure as hell wouldn't mess it up. 

This resolve lasted all the way until he got off the train, and as he walked up to the entrance of the Manor he started to doubt himself. 

Because, really, now that he thought about it, how in the world was he going to be able to change so many things. What was he even going to do? He was going to be a child again, for goodness's sake, no one was going to take him seriously. Much less since he was a Malfoy, and even less since he was a Slytherin. Gosh darn it, this really was a stupid idea. 

But was he still going to go through with it?

Of course he was. 

His mother greeted him in the foyer. She looked rather gaunt, and skinny, and a bit sick-looking, but she was happy all the same, beaming at him as he enveloped her in his arms. He placed a kiss on her forehead when he pulled away. 

Oh, how he missed his mother. She was probably the only reason why he hadn't tried to off himself already. She had been most earnest in expressing her interests in him finishing school, and he understood her intentions well. He'd always understood her, anyway, far more than his father. 

She let him go up to his room to freshen up a bit before going down for an early dinner, and he kissed her on the cheek before hurrying up. A house-elf had already brought his luggage up, and he quickly showered a bit, to get rid of the sticky feeling he'd got after riding on the train for so long. 

Down at dinner, Narcissa filled him in on everything that had happened while he was at Hogwarts. Their conversation was light, and cheerful, and both were careful to not stray to topics that would extinguish this rare, happy mood. Mostly it was just her talking. He listened intently to her voice, only voicing his opinion when he felt he should. Which, when he thought back about it, wasn't a lot. 

One of his most significant changes since the war would be that he hardly ever talked much. Not only was it because he hardly had anyone to talk to anymore, it was also because he felt the atmosphere at Hogwarts simply didn't allow him to. Rarely any Slytherins talked these days, actually. Most were still suffering the repercussions of the war. But it honestly wasn't an unwelcome change. He's found that whenever he opens his mouth back in his previous years, things almost always goes to shit. Probably because he never has anything good to say. He'd always liked to make his opinion known, and most of the time, they weren't all that great.

Now, since he's hardly talked anymore, he's found it quite hard to this evening, hence his mother doing most of the talking. The conversation grew late into the night, and it was nearly bedtime by the time they've had their fill of gossip. Narcissa surprisingly had a lot to talk about for someone on house arrest. If he doubted before where he got his ability to talk for hours on end in the past, he was sure now. 

He was going to miss this, he thought. When he returned to the past, there certainly wouldn't be any of this. His mother was too obedient to his father to talk about such meaningless things so leisurely, and even if he did coax her to talk, she wouldn't really take him seriously since he was going to be just a kid. But, he supposed, such things could be sacrificed for a while for the greater good. Besides, if everything turned out all right, his mother would have more things to talk about when she was able to go out of the house at her own free will.  

* * *

This room was one of the more packed ones. All sorts of objects filled it; big, small, wide, thin, tall, short, literally just everything. It reminded him of the Room of Hidden Things back in Hogwarts-- this, and several of the other rooms he'd come across. It amazed him how his family could have collected so many things, and it amazed him that there were so many devices wizards used magic for. He couldn't even begin to fathom what some of the devices did, nor how they worked, nor what they were made of. But one thing was certain; he hadn't found his bloody Time-turner. 

He rummaged a large shelf with his lighted wand between his teeth, wherein an assortment of metal devices cluttered in it. They looked as if they hadn't been moved in  _decades_ , what with the thick layer of dust coating it. In fact, none of the rooms he'd ventured into looked like they had had any human activity in them for a very long time. Draco didn't understand it. What was the point of collecting all these strange, useful devices if no one was ever going to put them to use? Was it all just for the sake of... collecting? Then that is pretty bloody selfish. Who knew what discoveries or adventures these devices could bring. And no one would ever know because they're all just sitting here without any other purpose than to look pretty. 

Honestly, what was wrong with families like his? 

He gave a sigh as his search theough the shelf found nothing. He turned to look around the room. Shelves just like the one behind him lined the three walls, except for the one with the door, which was bare. The wall opposite the door, however, had a space between two shelves, where a tall window stood. High tables were placed evenly throughout the room, and beneath that, there were more boxes containing more devices. He'd already went through every one of the shelves, so now, he went to the tables. 

The pale moonlight illuminated the contents on the table, and so he canceled his Lumos. He prodded some of the things with the tip of his wand, nudging some things out of the way and looking at them with mild interest. They weren't what he was looking for. He knew that all Time-turners had an hourglass in them somewhere; all he had to do was find the hourglass. He'd actually come across one Time-turner, just last night, but it was the standard one. He recognized it from Granger's memory. 

He bent down to look at the boxes underneath the table. Pulling one out, he opened the flaps, peered inside, and sneezed. Then he cringed, before reaching a hand inside to move things around. There were more miscellaneous things, but one caught his attention. It was small wooden box, just big enough to fit snugly in his palm, and it was polished and almost shining despite the dusty box. It was a deep mahogany color, the grain of the wood showing clearly even in the dim moonlight. It was strange that he would have noticed it, for it looked ordinary, and inconspicuous, other than an inscription on the lid:

_Let the sun rewind its course, and turn my days back into nights. Let me mend the bones long past, and turn my wrongs into right._

He muttered the words softly, and suddenly there was a jolt around him. The whole room suddenly swam, before sharpening into focus, and it startled him so much he almost dropped the box. He gasped, as suddenly there was an unexpected flash of pain just beneath his skull. He grabbed at his forehead as he stared down at the box. Could this be...?

He read the words again, looking up in anticipation. There it was again! A sudden jolt of the entire room, as if a small earthquake had erupted right beneath the Manor. Though none of the shelves and tables shook -- actually, it could be possible that  _he_ was the one experiencing the jolt. There was that flash of pain in his head again, a little more pronounced, but he ignored it for the moment. He moved to the window, looking up at the night sky. There were silver clouds floating past the crescent moon, slowly, but definitely. He read the words again.

The clouds stopped. 

Only for a sliver of a moment, before the jolt happened again, but he was sure of it. The clouds had stopped. 

He'd found his Time-turner.  

Grinning with delight, he crept back out of the room, looking out for any sign of people, before hurrying back to his room. He'd barely managed to control himself from running up the last few steps, because, well, that was undignified, especially for a Malfoy. He spelled the lights on in his room before jumping onto his bed, sitting cross-legged. Without a moment's hesitation he flipped open the box.

Contrary to the simple design of the box, the Time-turner itself was elaborately carved. It was made of precious metals, exactly what he wasn't quite sure but he assumed it was silver, knowing his father. He could see why now his father liked to collect this type of things. It was awfully pretty. It was shaped like a ring, and where the gemstone would have been was a cage of glass, wherein a small hourglass was placed inside. The sand inside was glittery, and it refracted whatever light that bounced on it. The whole thing was big enough to fit around his thumb. 

He looked closer. There were carvings on the top and bottom of the ring, at either side of the glass cage. On the bottom clearly showed today's date. 18 April 1999. 

He frowned. There was no date at the top, just a thin line where he thinks it ought to be. So how does he put the date? Then he rolled his eyes at himself. Of course. Magic. 

He put the ring around his left thumb, then tapped at the top of it with the tip of his wand. Nothing happened. Was there a spell he needed to use? Fuck. 

He frowned again, then thought of the date he needed to go back. Well, he wasn't exactly sure when he should go back. Should he return to his eleventh birthday? That was on June 5th; it gave him ample time to plan out his approach on the whole matter. But then again, that was a bit too far. He would have too much extra time on his hands. He would be forced to follow his father around, listening endlessly to his insanely boring lectures about family this, tradition that, mudblood this, Malfoy that.

(Oh, speaking of that. He had to stop all those racial slurs. There was no way he could accomplish his mission if he were to bad-mouth Granger and Weasley at every opportunity he got.)

Still, when should he go back? There was literally a whole range of dates he could choose from, but which one would have the most significant effect? Which one of those days had he done significant damage in? 

At Madam Malkin's. With Harry Potter. On July 31st. 

Yes. Thats when he should go back. Well, just to be safe...

He thought of that date, focused on it, then tapped on the top of the ring with his wand. He beamed when letters and numbers carved themselves into the metal. 29 July 1991. 

He looked around, then down back at the ring. Nothing was happening. Then he remembered the inscription. 

"Oh," he said to himself, then read the short passage out loud. 

There was a sudden roar of noise, so abrupt as if a switch had been flipped. He dropped his wand on instinct, and was pressed down onto his mattress as if gravity had intensified ten-fold. The pain behind his skull exploded, and now it spread throughout his body, and there was now a ringing in his ears, and his breath cut short. The ring felt hot and heavy around his thumb. 

'Oh, fuck,' he thought. 'I fucked up.'

The noise became deafening, and the pain so excruciating he screamed through gritted teeth. His fingers grasped blindly at his sheets, but it was as if they weren't there at all. He squeezed his eyes shut as the world lost focus around him, and prepared for the worst. 

'I'm going to die.' 

He slammed down hard, and all at once, everything stopped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was careless enough to accidentally get my work deleted a few times, which caused several rages, but I've finally finished this chapter. Holy shit. I'm surprised, actually, to see that so many people clicked on my story. I totally wasn't expecting it. And to that one commenter that said s/he didn't understand why i have such lottle recognition, it's because i literally just started this account. But nevertheless, I'm pleased to see that you've found my story interesting. Next chapter will be up soon, I promise, but let's just hope my work doens't accidentally delete itself or something.  
> See ya guys!


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